The Mother of All ScrewUps
by schizo-nephalim
Summary: Part 4 of the Kyra Singer saga. With their father missing, Dean decides to call in Kyra for a new set of eyes to help find him. Sam meets her for the first time and a lot of wrong assumptions are made.
1. Chapter One: Sam's POV

The Mother of All Screw-Ups

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I don't own the Winchesters or their world, or I'd make Dean my love slave. I only own Kyra.

**Rating:** T for language

**Characters:** Dean, Sam, Kyra Singer (OC)

**Description:** With their father missing, Dean decides to call in Kyra for a new set of eyes to help find him. Sam meets her for the first time and a lot of wrong assumptions are made.

**A/N:** This one's set sometime in season one, between episodes. I got the title from a line from _Under Seige 2: Dark Territory_…"Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups." And before anyone comes gunning for me, please let me explain about Kyra! Nothing else I've posted has gotten to explore deeper into her "normal" personality, because most of what's posted is her dealing with traumatic or otherwise life-changing situations. When that's not going on, she's actually pretty laid-back and a bit silly, even to the point of being a little crazy. She's also not easy to make angry, but she does have her moments. Have fun!

Chapter One

My eyes burned as I pored over the notes I'd gathered so far…we'd been trying to track Dad down for over two months, and it was obvious he didn't want to be found, but that wasn't gonna stop me. As much as I didn't like bringing in anyone else on this, Dean had insisted on calling another hunter. All he'd given me was a name—Kyra Singer—but he'd been unusually quiet about any other details about her. The only thing I could hope for was that it wasn't about a booty call, because there was no way in hell I was sleeping in the Impala.

Dean was pacing the floor and kept checking his phone every five minutes. It was honestly driving me nuts, but I bit my tongue as I sighed and sat back in the chair. I'd been going over every scrap of information we had for the last six hours, and I was still coming up with nothing. When I glanced at my watch, it read 6:49…I had no idea where she was heading from, so I wasn't sure why my brother was so on edge about her.

"Start some more coffee, would you?" He shot me a dirty look, but to my surprise he did what I asked without a word. That made me even more uneasy than anything else that had happened so far, and it made me wonder exactly what was going on inside his head. I knew better than to ask, though—he'd rather run into a nest of demons head-first and unarmed before opening up about anything that would come even close to being personal.

A knock on the door startled me, but Dean was on it before I could even stand up; he looked out the peephole first, then opened the door wide to let in the newcomer. My instincts made me catalogue everything about her appearance—she was about 5'8" with dark brown hair pulled back in a long, messy ponytail, hazel eyes, a slim build, and dressed in a black denim jacket, red thermal top, blue jeans, and high-heeled black leather boots. She might have been beautiful, but the haggard, bone-weary way she walked in told me she was running on fumes.

"Hey Dean," she said simply. Her voice was soft and much deeper than Jessica's, and it carried a slight hint of a Southern twang.

"Kyra, this is my brother Sam. Sam, Kyra Singer," my brother introduced us as she threw her duffel and laptop bag on his bed. I sat up straighter as she reached a hand out to me—when we shook hands, I saw her flinch, but she made no comment about it and I followed her lead…up close, she barely looked seventeen, which struck me as odd.

"Nice to meet you," we said at the same time. She smiled slightly, then started rummaging through her duffel as she spoke to Dean over her shoulder. "I'll take a look at what you guys got in the morning, okay?"

"In the morning?" Dean echoed. I looked at him and found the frustration in his voice matched his expression. "My dad is missing—I didn't call you just to have you blow everything off when you got here, Kyra!"

"Why don't you shove it up your ass!" she snarled abruptly as she spun around to stare him down, making both of us do a double take at the hostility suddenly radiating from her.

"Excuse me?"

"I was just getting ready to hit the sack after wrapping up my hunt when you called—I'd already been up for 36 hours, but I dropped _**everything**_ to help you! I just drove seven hundred miles, I haven't eaten in twelve hours, and you have the balls to bitch at me for needing to fucking _**sleep**_?"

Holy crap! My jaw hit the floor at her outburst…she struck me as the quiet type, but boy was I wrong! When I looked at Dean, he looked just as shocked as I did, but the completely baffled expression on his face was so strange that it took all my efforts not to laugh.

"So how about you get your head out of your ass and think about someone else for a change!" She seemed finished with that, glaring at Dean like she was ready to rip his head off—he swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he breathed out, the deer-in-the-headlights look still on his face. That one word seemed to do the trick, because instantly her entire demeanor changed back to the previous state of sleep-deprived calm.

"It's cool," she brushed it off, rummaging in her bag again. "I'm gonna get a shower now, I swear my heater did overtime in the last hundred miles."

"You want me to get some dinner for you? We already ate," my brother said, making it even harder to hold back the laughter I felt burning inside me.

"Yeah, that'd be great…steak, medium well, loaded baked potato, no sour cream," she said over her shoulder as she pulled some clothes out of her bag. He nodded as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door…the lock didn't click, which struck me as odd. Without saying a word to me, he grabbed a phone book and dialed in a number, then placed a to-go order for her dinner.

That sent me over the edge, and I started laughing as he hung up the phone. He shot me an annoyed look.

"What?" he snapped.

"Dude, she just ripped you a new one for being a total dick—and you actually apologized? What's the deal with you two, anyway?" He shrugged off the question like it wasn't important as he grabbed the keys off the desk.

"Story for another time, Sammy…now keep her company, okay? I'll be back as soon as I can," he said shortly before disappearing out the door. I chuckled as I fired up my laptop and settled back on my bed. Whatever was between them, I knew I'd find out sooner or later, but only one thought stayed in my mind…this was definitely gonna be interesting.


	2. Chapter Two: Kyra's POV

Chapter Two

I was running on autopilot long before my shower, but by the time I had finished and shut off the water, I felt like the walking dead. Every movement I made to get out of the tub, dry off, and get dressed was clumsy and awkward…everything was stiff and sore, and all I wanted to do was flop down on the bed in the next room and sleep for a week. Unfortunately, I knew that would be impossible thanks to my chronic insomnia—it usually took hours for me to fall asleep in the first place, then when I finally did, I'd wake up every few hours, whether due to outside disturbances or the nightmares that had plagued me since Tulsa.

A shudder ran through me at the mere thought of that city…nearly two years had passed since then, but it was all just as raw and painful as it had been when it went down. That's the last thing I need on my mind when I'm about to hit the sack. Taking a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door and walked out to find Sam propped in a sitting position on one bed, his laptop sitting on his thighs.

"Hey," he said, looking up at me as I moved my bags to the chair by the table, "Dean's still out getting your food."

"I kinda figured," I replied, flopping down on Dean's bed. "So you're Sam, huh? Dean and John told me a lot about you."

"Really?" Surprise colored his tone. "My dad talked to you about me?"

"Yeah…I worked a job with him once." Aside from Tulsa, it was true. "He kept raving about how smart you are and how proud he was…not everyone can move around constantly and still get a full ride to Stanford, ya know?"

"I guess," he said, a slightly embarrassed smile crossing his face. "So how'd you get started hunting?"

His question made all those memories rise to the surface again, and I had to clench my jaw to keep it from quivering. Dammit, I didn't wanna think about it right now—apparently Dean never told him that story. Still, I had to learn how to open up about it at some point…no time like the present.

"Dean and John were working a case in Tulsa, a few months after you left for Stanford," I started, cursing myself for how my voice wavered. "There was a werewolf they were tracking…they killed it, but before they could, it bit my husband…I knew they weren't feds when they showed up on my doorstep, and I made them tell me the truth before I would cooperate…he wasn't home at the time, so Dean stayed in the apartment with me while your dad kept watch on the perimeter.

"It was around midnight when he got in…Dean had just gone to the bathroom, and I went to check on the kids…" I shuddered at the memory. "I still don't know how it got in the window without us hearing…it saw me, and I ran for the kitchen…Dean heard and came running, but he'd left his gun on the table…I grabbed it and shot the thing…I didn't know I was still pulling the trigger till Dean took the gun away…and my husband was dead on the floor."

Tears burned my eyes while I spoke, and a few spilled out at the end…when I looked at Sam, I saw my pain reflected in his eyes along with compassion. He'd never known the love between mother and child, so he could never understand what that loss did to me, but he'd lost a loved one too.

"Christ," he said quietly, "I've heard some horror stories in my time, but that's gotta be the worst…I'm so sorry."

"And I'm sorry about Jessica," I murmured. He stiffened at the name.

"Did Dean tell you about that?" I shook my head, making him sit up straighter, his expression hardening.

"After…that, I started to develop these abilities…I can touch someone or something and see things that happened to them." He seemed to relax a little at my words, and I smiled a little. "It's actually pretty useful on a case…you get a witness that doesn't wanna talk cuz they think what they saw is stupid or crazy, and all you gotta do is shake their hand to get the story."

"Yeah, I bet," he said, chuckling. "Does Dean know?"

"Yeah…he was there when it started. It was the morning after…we'd stopped in Joplin on the way to Uncle Bobby's, and John was helping me get into bed when it happened for the first time. I saw what happened the night your mom died…it freaked me out…your dad wasn't exactly thrilled when I told him what I saw."

"What'd he do?" Sam nearly groaned, and it made me chuckle.

"He hit me with the usual…tricked me into drinking holy water, made me eat salt, pulled a silver knife on me…I talked him into giving me the knife to make the cut myself so I could prove I was human."

"Sounds like him," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in apparent embarrassment. "You're not really Bobby's niece, are you?"

"Might as well be—he's the only person I can talk to. It's not like I can just drop the life and go back to my hometown in Arkansas…my brothers wouldn't get it, and my parents? My dad treated me like dirt, and my mom was nuts…she was convinced that my son was my little brother reincarnated…if I had to go back there and listen to her talk my ears off about how we lost him again, I'd blow my head off inside a week. Hell, that's one reason I never considered it…besides, it's not like I could've acted like everything was normal after Tulsa."

Silence fell on the room, and I looked at him to find a thoughtful expression on his face…apparently he was trying to imagine the kind of life I led growing up, or maybe weighing the wisdom of my choice to leave my normal life behind. I couldn't ever say I'd really been normal in the first place; even before my abilities popped up, I didn't think like other people. I'd never really fit in…I had my own way of seeing things, a viewpoint unlike anyone else…even my sense of personal style was distinctive. I'd had many acquaintances but few real friends, and I'd left them all behind the night I first sat in the backseat of the Impala.

Just as Sam opened his mouth to speak, Dean walked back in and shut the door, a plastic takeout bag swinging from one hand that he set on the table. The sight made my stomach snarl, and for a moment I forgot how tired I was as I jumped up, grabbed my pocketknife from the pocket of my discarded jeans, and took my place at the table, quickly pulling out the food box. After I quickly cut into the steak and took my first bite, I growled in satisfaction.

"You're a lifesaver, Dean," I enthused after I swallowed, then dug into the meal. Both of the men chuckled.

"Well, you know what they say about the third time," he joked, making me roll my eyes. I noticed Sam's eyes darting between me and his brother, and I wondered what exactly he was seeing…Dean hadn't told him about me, but that could be for any number of reasons…that also meant he didn't know our history, aside from how we met. It wasn't enough to keep my attention, though—not with a screaming appetite and a juicy steak in front of me, anyway.

I finished the entire meal in record time, washed down with a Coke that Dean had picked up in the vending machine just before walking in…the only things left were fragments of potato skin and small bits of fat and sinew from the boneless steak, making Sam raise an eyebrow.

"What? A woman's gotta eat," I said to Sam, making Dean snicker. The younger Winchester looked flustered for a moment.

"Nothing…I just…do you eat like that all the time?"

"Dude, you haven't seen her eat ribs yet," Dean chimed in. I was starting to tune out again…between the sleep deprivation and finally having a full stomach, it was getting hard to keep my eyes open, and I finally cleaned my knife with a napkin and stumbled out of the chair towards Dean's bed.

"Okay guys, keep the lights low and the noise down to a dull roar—I gotta get some sleep, and I swear to God, whoever wakes me up before noon is getting their balls shot off," I announced as I crawled under the covers, not bothering to look and see what their reactions were. Now that I was finally able to let my body relax, I breathed in deeply…Dean's scent clung to the pillow and sheets, further putting me at ease, and it wasn't long until I drifted off.


	3. Chapter Three: Dean's POV

Chapter Three

"Well, we might as well go ahead and hit the sack," I muttered as I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Naturally, Sam followed me in…we hadn't talked about Kyra, but I knew from the looks he shot me that he was dying to know why I was so much nicer to her…well, he can get the story from her, but no matter how much he gives me the puppy eyes or the bitch face, I'm not budging.

"Seriously? It's barely ten," he replied, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't wake her up. I shrugged as I quickly prepped my toothbrush and started brushing, and I saw a smirk cross his face in the mirror. "Okay, I get it now."

Making a mental note to replace his research files on his laptop with porn, I finished brushing my teeth in silence…well, silence on my part. Sammy, another story.

"I mean, it's no surprise, really…she's in the life, so you don't have to worry about leaving her behind, and she's got a bigger attitude than yours, so she's probably the only woman on the planet that can put you in check. Hell, I see why you like her so much…I just don't see why you won't tell her." I rolled my eyes, then finally spit out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth out.

"Shut up."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

With that, I flipped the bathroom light off and walked straight past Sam to my bed, smiling a little when I saw Kyra curled up on one side…the smile didn't last long when I saw the state she was in, though…she was shaking and twitching, the expression on her face pained. I knew all too well what was going on in there, and I slid into bed and cautiously shook her awake; she nearly jumped out of her skin as her eyes snapped open, her hand grabbing my arm with lightning speed as her terrified eyes looked around wildly.

"Shh, it's okay, it's me," I whispered soothingly…tears silently fell from her eyes, and I wiped them away with one hand when she released the death grip on my arm. "You wanna talk about it?"

After a moment of tear-filled eyes staring into mine, she shook her head…no surprise there, really…the nightmares about Tulsa were bad enough without having to talk about it afterwards. Hell, sometimes _**I**_ had nightmares about it, but I knew it was worse for her…for me, it was guilt for not being able to protect two kids—babies—that would never have a chance to grow up…for her, it was _**her**_ kids, _**her**_ babies, _**her**_ life and heart and soul ripped apart by their deaths…as much as she'd progressed in going on with her life from day to day, she went through her own personal hell nearly every night. My life, as insane and dysfunctional as it was, was a cakewalk in comparison.

Without a word, I pulled her into my arms, and she snuggled up to me…her head was resting on my shoulder, her body pressed against mine, her leg wrapped around one of mine…it screamed _post-sex cuddle_, but I seriously doubted she was thinking along those lines. Hell, she probably wasn't thinking at all—just going on instinct, like usual.

I looked over at Sam…he was giving me a look that was crossed between concern for Kyra and a desire to screw with me till Judgment Day for how soft I was with her. I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, and he shook his head as he settled into his own bed…maybe I do have a soft spot for her, but it wasn't anything like what I knew he was thinking. Hell, he doesn't know squat about her! Still, it was easy to feel comfortable with her in my arms like this…she was warm and affectionate…even after the realities of this life kicked in, she didn't lose that side of her, which was surprising, to say the least. My eyelids started drooping, and I closed my eyes…it'll be back to the search in the morning.


	4. Chapter Four: Sam's POV

Chapter Four

As I grabbed clothes from my bag to go take a shower, I looked over at my brother and Kyra…they were both still asleep, even though it was almost ten in the morning. That didn't surprise me, really…Dean never liked getting up early, and Kyra had looked dead on her feet when she finally got to lay down last night. They were cuddled up to each other, and they just looked so cute together I couldn't help but smile…after she had woken up when Dean was getting in bed, neither of them had stirred for the rest of the night…I know because I'd stayed up a few more hours reading, and I'm a pretty light sleeper.

I showered, brushed my teeth, and got dressed quickly, then walked back into the room to find them already up and about. Kyra had already gotten dressed for the day, wearing a pair of faded, flared blue jeans, a black thermal shirt, and the high-heeled boots she had worn when she came in…it surprised me that she was comfortable enough to change clothes in front of my brother, but from what I'd seen between them, I figured they'd already had sex at some point, so it shouldn't have been a surprise at all. Dean, predictably, was still in his boxers, and still sitting on the bed while she was rummaging in her bag again, this time pulling out a toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Morning," she trilled pleasantly as she brushed past me into the bathroom. I stared at her for a moment…apparently sleep had helped her mood, or maybe they had snuck a quickie while I was out of the room—**GAH! Brain bleach!**

"Morning," I echoed back, then raised an eyebrow at Dean. He shrugged, then rubbed his eyes.

"Don't ask me, her mood bounces all over the place…I swear to God she's got freakin' multiple personalities," he said, and I noticed he deliberately spoke loud enough for her to hear. I heard a scoff as she spit, then she popped up in the doorframe, giving him a smirk.

"At least I don't have the emotional capacity of a tree stump," she shot back, making me want to laugh all over again as he grumbled and finally stood up.

"Whatever, tease."

"Slut," was her automatic reply, and the laughter came out so suddenly I wasn't able to hold it in…I met her eyes in the mirror and she gave me a wink as she resumed brushing her teeth, which just made me laugh harder. Some part of my brain registered that their banter was eerily similar to what I shared with my brother—the only difference, really, was they used 'tease' and 'slut' instead of 'jerk' and 'bitch'—but honestly, it seemed funnier than what I thought possible, and it was easy not to register that right away.

"I'm gonna get a quick shower and we can go get breakfast," Dean spoke up, grabbing some clothes from his duffel and heading into the bathroom just as Kyra finished brushing her teeth. She quickly rinsed her mouth out and walked out.

"Hurry up or we're gonna leave your ass," she told him as he shut the door, then turned around to face me. There was something about the way she looked at me…she knew their exchange had been hilarious to me, and her expression told me not only that, but that maybe it had been her intention the entire time. Now that I had a chance to really look at her, she was fairly attractive…her hair was down now, falling in thick waves, and compared to us, she was built like a twig, her clothes hugging her slim figure and the subtle curves of her hips and small breasts…she moved around the room with grace, but something in the way she moved was different from most women I'd seen, a little more animalistic, more like a predator…the whole vibe I got from her was a contradiction, and it confused the hell out of me…maybe that's the appeal she has in Dean's eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" I blurted out, immediately cursing myself mentally for talking before thinking.

"Shoot."

"Well, I noticed that it doesn't seem to bother you…being in close quarters with men you don't know all that well…and, umm…" She seemed to understand what I was asking, and this time she was the one laughing.

"Sam, you've got a lot to learn about me," she chuckled. "I grew up in the testosterone ocean—my dad, two older brothers, my husband, all their jackass friends…hell, my oldest friend was a guy, we were friends since kindergarten. It's just what I'm used to…besides, I know Dean, and I know what him and your dad told me about you…trust me, it's a pretty good bet that I'm safe with you guys."

After her explanation, her casual demeanor made perfect sense…it certainly let me understand how easily she had taken being alone with me, at any rate. Still, there was that nagging question in the back of my mind about her relationship with Dean…they bickered as much as I did with him, strangely enough with the same playfulness…but the tenderness and comfort they gave each other told me I was missing some big piece of the puzzle. I wanted to ask, but I had a feeling I wouldn't get a straight answer, especially with my brother around. She flopped back down on their bed, apparently deciding to rest until we were ready.

Following her lead, I sat down on my bed as well, turning the TV on to fill the silence. It was actually a lot more comfortable than I expected…she seemed completely at ease, and I couldn't deny the feeling that she was something of a kindred spirit…definitely not a romantic interest, but someone who understood what I was going through. I'd envisioned a life with Jess so many times—marriage, kids, a steady job, white picket fence—and it was all ripped away from me the night she died. Kyra, on the other hand, already had that life—the spouse and kids, anyway—and had it brutally destroyed…and like me, she didn't hesitate to embrace the life when that happened.

The shower finally shut off in the next room, and a few minutes later Dean emerged in a clean pair of jeans and nothing else, drying his hair. I saw her glance at him for a moment, her eyes lingering on his torso a split second longer than necessary, before she rolled up to her feet in one smooth motion.

"Took you long enough," she grumbled, making me smirk as my brother scowled at her.

"You're one to talk—Mena ringing any bells?" She rolled her eyes.

"I'm a woman, what's your excuse?" she shot back, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Dean shot me a look and smirked.

"Well, I guess the girls can ride together on the way to breakfast."

"Hey-"

"Fine, I didn't wanna ride in the Impala anyway," she said simply, talking over my protest as she threw on her jacket. "C'mon Sam, I'll save you from classic rock hell."

Dean looked honestly offended as she stomped out the door, not bothering to glance back to see his reaction or whether I was following. It was hard to tell if the jab about the Impala or his music hurt him more, but it was definitely more of a reaction than any remark I'd ever made…after a moment, he looked at me.

"Go ahead, I'll catch up," he said easily, his face reverting back to the usual mask of confidence. I shrugged and walked out the door…I swear I heard him muttering to himself, but I didn't bother to listen. The roar of a classic car starting up caught my attention, and I noticed the blood red Bonneville parked next to the Impala…Kyra was sitting in the driver's seat, and I automatically walked to the passenger side and slid inside, slamming the door like I would with the Impala. Once I was inside, she pulled out of the parking spot and immediately took off.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off back there," she said as she came up to a stop sign, slowing down for the stop. "I just had to get outta there before your dumbass brother made me lose my temper…walking away is easier than saying or doing something I'd feel bad for later."

"I dunno, I think you hurt his feelings enough with the insults to his car and his music," I joked, making her shrug.

"Don't get me wrong, that Impala is awesome…I just have too many bad memories to willingly jump in the back seat of that thing again," she explained, her tone becoming quiet before she brightened up again. "Besides, I know you get tired of hearing the same five damn albums over and over again."

That made me laugh…she was absolutely right, of course…and it showed how well she really knew Dean. Now that we were alone, it was the perfect time to ask her about him, but I wasn't really sure where to start or how to word it…her hand brushed against mine as she leaned back in her seat, and she smiled sadly and shook her head.

"You got it all wrong, Sam," she said simply. "It's not like that with me and Dean."

"Then what is it like?" The curiosity to find out what was between them completely overrode any anger that might have come with her reading my mind through that slight contact.

"He looks at me and sees some innocent little girl, someone he has to protect—I guess that comes with saving my ass twice…but to me? He's a great hunter and a good friend, even if he's a dick and a smartass nearly every time he opens his mouth." She sighed quietly to herself. "I thought maybe he'd slack off on that stuff after Woodstock."

"Woodstock?" I echoed, confused. Kyra chuckled and shook her head.

"Woodstock, Vermont," she clarified, and I nodded in comprehension before she explained further.

"Last May, we were tracking a werewolf and chased it into the woods…it snuck up on Dean and I took the shot when I yelled down, but it was too fast…it dodged the bullet and went for me…got its claws in my leg and sent me down a hill into a creek. Dean killed it and came after me…that creek was only about knee deep and three feet wide so there wasn't much of a current, but God it was cold and I'd completely fallen in…the Impala was three miles away, and he had to carry me cuz I was shaking too bad to walk…I was drifting in and out, but when we got back to the hotel, first thing he did was get all my clothes off, dry me off as much as he could with a towel, crank up the heater, strip down, and get in bed with me to try to warm me back up…we had to stay like that for a full day before I was warm enough for him to stitch my leg up. We stayed three days longer than we'd planned, but it was a nice place…nice company…and believe it or not, it proved that your brother can share a bed with a woman without sex being involved."

"That's a shocker right there," I replied to her last comment, surprised yet again on several levels. "So where was Dad in all this?"

"Well, we'd first met up in Ohio to head up there…it was gonna be the three of us, but the night before we were gonna hit the road, he got a call from Pastor Jim for help on another hunt, and he said me and Dean could handle it by ourselves."

"How old are you, anyway?" I blurted out, then cursed myself again—where the hell did my brain-to-mouth filter go?

"Twenty-two, same as you," she quipped like my question was completely natural…she chuckled when she looked at me, and I guess my confusion was written on my face. "I get that question a lot…hell, before I quit smoking, I got carded at every store on the planet…they all said I looked underage."

"When did you quit?"

"Three months ago." She turned into the parking lot of a diner and killed the engine, and we got out and went inside, choosing a booth near the back to sit at…I saw her give the place a once-over like I did, taking in the layout, people, and ways in and out…there was no doubt in my mind that she was packing, or at the very least carrying a knife. The waitress gave us menus and took our drink orders, and we both asked for coffee before she left to let us decide on our food.


	5. Chapter Five:  Kyra's POV

**A/N:** Grrrr...this is why I hate posting stories before I've finished them...lack of time and inspiration. I didn't like the ending to the last chapter, I'll probably tweak it if I ever get time. Also, is anyone out there? Reviews are love, people!

Chapter Five

"Okay, lemme see it," I said to Dean as we walked back into the hotel room. Him and Sam had filled me in on everything they knew about their dad's disappearance—which they admitted wasn't much—at breakfast, and the fact they had his journal would be a lot more helpful to me than anything else they had told me. If nothing else, I could at least be able to tell what John had been planning when he left it for them, and maybe find out where the hell he went after he skipped out on the woman in white in Jericho. After all, reading between the lines, that was why Dean had called me to help in the first place.

Dean rummaged through his duffel bag for a moment, then pulled out a slightly battered, somewhat messy journal and plopped it down on the table, and I sat down in the chair and stared at it. Papers stuck out at odd spots, obviously where John had added newspaper clippings or extra notes on lore…it almost felt like a serious invasion of privacy to even touch it, but I'd have to if I'd be any use to the search. The brothers sat down on the edges of their beds, staring at me expectantly…I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gingerly touched the journal. Instantly, my hand stuck to it like a live wire as memories crashed into my mind like a tidal wave.

_John sat at the table of the motel room, glancing at the two young boys playing with toy soldiers on the floor, keeping the tears unshed…tears for their mother, tears for the life their boys would grow up in, tears for the people that had died on his last hunt…_

_After pasting in the newspaper clipping for Roosevelt Asylum, John sat back in his chair and finished off his glass of whiskey…the boys were a little older now, and sleeping soundly across the room. Five years, and he still had no idea what exactly killed Mary or why…_

_An exhausted, guilt-riddled John wrote in the details of the latest hunt, where a black dog had taken a chunk out of Dean's shoulder…the teen was sleeping fitfully, but he was only asleep at all thanks to the pain pills and blood loss…he'd been a true soldier though, didn't cry or beg for a hospital or even act like it was serious, even though he'd bled out all over the Impala's backseat…_I never should've done this to my boys, _he thought to himself, _I almost got Dean killed_…_

_John wrote the coordinates to Dean in the journal…finally, a lead on the yellow-eyed bastard! _So close,_ he thought to himself, then cut himself off as he seemed to realize something… _**KYRA, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!**

My head gave a particularly painful throb as my hand came free, and I nearly fell backward out of my chair, but two sets of hands caught me before I could hit the floor…Sam and Dean…the room started spinning as I felt myself carried to one of the beds and laid down.

"Kyra, you with me?" Dean's voice asked softly, his hand rubbing my back…thank God he didn't touch my bare skin—I don't think I could handle whatever I'd pick up from him when I'm already on overload.

"Migraine," I mumbled…his hand left my back, only to be replaced by Sam's. I heard him rummaging through a bag, then the rattling of several pill bottles…must be my bag, then. After a moment, two pills were dropped in my open palm and a water bottle shoved into my other hand. The guys pulled me up enough for me to take the pills—a glance told me they were my Excedrin Migraine—and down the water as fast as I could without choking, then I laid down again and pulled a pillow over my head.

A heavy silence settled over the room as the brothers waited for answers…I knew they were being as patient as they could, but sooner or later they would refuse to wait, no matter what kind of condition I was in—let's get it over with.

"He's smarter than I thought…even when he had that damn demon on his mind, he had enough foresight to block me out," I told them, lifting the pillow.

"It was a demon?" Sam asked, his tone eerily intense as his hand tensed on my back. I nodded, but I immediately regretted it when the drum line started up again…the hand left my back as I pulled the pillow down, and they started whispering to each other…I couldn't really care enough past the pain to listen in. After a few moments, the door opened and shut quietly, and the bed dipped behind me as one of them sat down…my boots were pulled off my feet, then I was gently pulled into a pair of strong arms, my back resting against a warm chest…Dean.

"It's okay, Kyra…get some rest…you can tell us later," he whispered to me, making me smile a little in spite of the pain. Good old Dean…always protecting me.


	6. Chapter Six: Dean's POV

**A/N:** Sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter, I completely hit a wall! Pretty short, but I think what's coming in the next couple of chapters will make up for it. Enjoy, and please review!

Chapter Six

"It took him years to figure out how to track it, but he finally did…and when he found out the demon was so close, he ditched the case in Jericho and hauled ass to Palo Alto," Kyra told us…it had taken a couple of hours for her to recover, but now she was telling me and Sam everything…my blood ran cold as I glanced at Sam…he went as stiff as Kyra had when she touched Dad's journal.

"Stanford," Sam whispered, his tone scared and frightening at the same time. "So you're saying he was there when Jessica was killed and he did nothing?"

"No," she said firmly, meeting his gaze. "He laid down every ward he knew about around and in your apartment, but it wasn't enough…this demon isn't your run-of-the-mill hell bitch…it's ancient and way more powerful. Even its eyes are different…demons usually have black or red eyes, but this one's eyes were yellow. I don't know what the significance of that is, but my theory? It's one of the first demons ever created, and it doesn't do random…it's done everything it has for a reason, but hell if I know what that reason is."

"That sounds vaguely ominous," I chimed in, trying to lighten the mood a little. Sam seemed to calm down a little when she finished talking, and I could understand why…even though Dad didn't show his face, he'd tried to stop it from getting to Jessica.

"You said he put down wards and traps…why didn't I see them when I came in?"

"The same reason Jessica didn't see them…he used a fast-drying clear paint so no one would notice them and scrub them off," she said simply. "You know symbols like that usually get misinterpreted by civilians as satanic crap, so he couldn't take the risk of using anything else. He would've laid down salt too, but those lines are too easy to break, and Jessica wouldn't have known what it was for, she would've just swept it all up. He had to break in while no one was home, so he waited until she was in class to go in and lay them down."

Silence reigned for a moment while everything she told us sank in…everything she said sounded like Dad…his strategy, his way of thinking…hell, I understood why he'd ditch the case in Jericho to go after the thing. He was trying to protect Sam and Jessica, trying to keep them safe, trying to find the damn thing before it got the chance to hurt anyone else.

"I need some air," Sam said suddenly—he was out the door before I could say anything. Kyra looked at me, her eyes full of concern.

"Should one of us go after him?" I hesitated for half a heartbeat at her question; I knew Sammy better than anyone…I knew he wanted to vent, and no doubt he'd pull whoever it was into a chick flick moment…but he also needed to sort everything out in his head, and he didn't need anyone else around for that.

"Nah, let him have his space for a minute," I answered, then turned to her with a smile. "Hey, how are you on cash?"

"Running a little low…you?" She half-smiled, like she already knew what I was thinking.

"Well, a little more never hurt anybody—feel like suckering the local rednecks tonight?"

"Hell, you know I'm in," she replied, grinning from ear to ear as she reached for her duffel again. "Just let me get dolled up and I'll be ready to go."


	7. Chapter Seven: Sam's POV

Chapter Seven

**A/N:** Sorry it's taken so long to update, people! Life just sucks, then my muse jumped me for other stories in other fandoms, and more of the Kyra saga got started too, I think if I can ever finish them, you guys are gonna absolutely LOVE where I plan on going with it! Anyway, now that I finally got this chapter out of the way, I can get the rest done, it's not too far away, I promise! I know it's short, but I'll make it up to you, I swear! Enjoy!

When I walked back into the motel room an hour later, I felt marginally better, but my mind was still on overload…the alley two blocks away looked like a tornado had hit it when I was done venting, but someone always cleans that kind of mess up sooner or later. I gave a short nod to my brother when he looked up from cleaning his guns, then was caught by surprise when I looked to the bathroom.

Kyra was in front of the mirror with the door open, wearing nothing but a matching black bra and boy-cut panties…the mirror revealed that there were white and red flames stitched on the front. She either hadn't noticed when I came back in or didn't care, because she made no move to close the door. Half of her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a clip, and the rest was hanging down as she pulled a flat iron through it…it looked pretty ridiculous, but my eyes kept scanning her body…smooth, pale skin, accented by a few scars that I could easily identify…one gunshot in the left shoulder blade, claws from the werewolf she told me about on her upper right thigh, and some sort of stab wound or cut across her upper abdominal region. Every muscle on her body was toned and tight, and I had a hard time believing that she and Dean never had sex…he goes after nearly every attractive woman he can find, but he's never even _tried_ to make a pass at her?! How the hell did that happen?

"Hey Sam," she greeted me, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "We're getting ready to go out…once I'm done with my hair, you can take a shower, change, whatever you gotta do to get ready too."

"Okay," was all I could think to say as I tore my eyes away from her and grabbed my laptop. Dean took one glance at me and snickered, but I refused to acknowledge him and fired up the computer, scanning random things just for something to do and paying almost no attention to what was on the screen.

It took about fifteen minutes for her to finish her hair, throw some clothes on—a low-cut, dark red thermal shirt, tight-fitting jeans that showed her figure, and the boots she'd arrived in—and put on some makeup, and I was thankful when she was finished. Sure, I'd been living with Jessica for months before Dean showed up, but she'd been my girlfriend…it was _**VERY**_ different when the woman walking around in next to nothing was practically a stranger, and between seeing her like that and the looks I kept getting from Dean, I was about to die from embarrassment.

When she was finished, I took a quick shower—cold, thank you very much—and dressed in the bathroom, then walked out to find Kyra sitting at the table writing in her own journal, while Dean was stretched out on their bed watching TV. She looked up at me and nodded approvingly, grinning.

"Nice…you ready?" she asked. I grabbed my jacket off my bed and threw it back on.

"Yeah, let's go," I replied.


	8. Chapter Eight: Dean's POV

Chapter Eight

**A/N:** Gah! This wasn't originally what I planned, but it jumped me, and I _**HAD**_ to write it! I love being in Dean's head when Kyra's around, and we finally get a little more insight into how he sees her. Anyone that knows Dean won't be too surprised…after all, remember the trial for his life with Osiris? Okay, now I'm probably giving too much away. Read on, and don't forget to review! And I'm making up for the shortness of the last chapter with how long this one is!

The bar was pretty much like any other I'd seen; a few pool tables, neon lights, the haze of cigarette smoke, and plenty of drunk rednecks with too much cash in their pockets. It was pretty awesome watching the way Kyra hustled the rednecks, but it was easier for her, being a woman and all—she already had this sweet and innocent look, and she came across as shy, plus she had a knockout body, so they were barely able to focus on what they were doing. I turned back to my beer and smirked at Sam, who gave me a look.

I knew what that look was for, but I chose to ignore it. So what if Kyra had a body to die for? That wasn't the point. She'd still have her normal, apple pie life if me and Dad hadn't screwed up that job in Tulsa. The werewolf we were tracking got away from us…we dropped the ball, her husband got turned, he slaughtered her kids while I was drinking coffee, then I was pathetic enough to get my ass handed to me by the bastard when I was supposed to be protecting her—and to top it off, she's the one that killed him, which I know royally screwed her up. I could never give her back what she'd lost, and it was my fault she'd lost everyone she loved in the first place. I might be a womanizer and a not-so-great guy, but contrary to what they think, I do have _some_ morals, and there's no way in hell that I'd try to sleep with her after all the hell she's had to suffer from my failures…that'd just be insulting to her.

Besides, even if I didn't have those standards, she's not like the other women I've met. She's not charmed that easily out of her clothes and into bed; hell, I probably never would've seen her naked if it hadn't been out of necessity back in Woodstock, and that was to keep her from dying from hypothermia. In spite of how she's been since she got here, I knew that wasn't really her…she's really self-conscious about her body and her looks, and the attention the other men were giving her made her nervous. I didn't need her abilities to know any of that, just like I didn't need them to know that her last roll in the hay was with her husband before she had to dump a clip in his chest.

When I turned back to the game, I noticed the way a few of them were tearing her clothes off with their eyes and whispering to each other. Right then, rage flooded my veins, but I held it in check…I knew she could take care of herself, but I wasn't gonna just sit back and let her possibly walk into that kind of situation, so I got a fresh beer and made my way over. She knew the deal as soon as she saw me; it was our normal routine; she smiled at me as I slid an arm around her waist, and I kissed her cheek.

"Hey sweetie," she crooned to me, swaying just a little…if I hadn't known it was part of the hustle, I would've thought she'd had one too many.

"Honey, what are you doing?" I asked sweetly, playing along. We kept the banter going for a few more seconds, and pretty soon we had everyone believing I was her caring boyfriend who was only concerned about the money she was betting. Before she took her next shot, though, I intentionally slipped my hand under the bottom edge of her shirt, just enough to touch the skin at her waist, and focused my attention again at the bastards that had been staring her down. She stiffened for a split second—she got the message—then kissed me on the neck before lining up her next shot.

By the time we left the tables, she was up two grand, and she offered to buy me and Sam the next round, so we got a table and started in on the shots. She hated whiskey for some reason, so she had tequila instead…we started catching up on the cases we'd worked, and I had to laugh at Sam's questions; she was like both of us rolled into one person and shoved into a woman's body, but he was amazed at this. She had my persistence, my instincts, and my attitude to be prepared for anything, but she had Sam's brains, love of research, and her head was practically an encyclopedia for the supernatural. So she spent her down time packing extra salt rounds and looking up lore on different monsters—what was she supposed to do, sit at Bobby's and take up knitting?

She'd just downed her third shot when I saw her eyes dart around the bar restlessly…I knew that look…she'd just picked up something, and she didn't like it at all. Sam noticed too, and we shared a look before I leaned over, put my arm around her, and acted like I was about to start kissing her neck.

"What is it?" I whispered to her…she didn't have to ask what I meant.

"I don't know…something just feels off, but I can't place it," she told me quietly. I knew better than to grill her for more details; if she didn't know what it was, then she couldn't tell me anything more than what she already had. Suddenly, she looked sick, and she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I need some air."

"You okay?" Sam asked her, starting to stand up as she did, but she motioned for him to sit back down as she took another deep breath.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, I just need a minute," she told him, then turned on her heel and made a beeline for the door. If I hadn't been worried about her, I would've thought it was impressive that she could still walk a straight line after the drinks she'd had, even if she did wobble a bit. Once she was outside, I met Sam's gaze again and saw he was thinking the same thing I was. It probably took him about two minutes to voice his concerns.

"What's wrong with her? Too much to drink, or her abilities?" he asked me. I shrugged.

"Not sure—maybe both," I answered as I pulled my wallet out and threw some money down for our last round. "Either way, I don't like it."

Nothing more had to be said. We stood as one and headed for the door, but when we were outside, I didn't see her anywhere. That confirmed my instincts—she wouldn't just disappear on me like that—and I motioned for Sam to go one way before heading the other direction to the corner of the building. I'd just reached the corner when I heard the sounds of a struggle, and my hand automatically went to my gun as I hurried around the side…the sound got louder as I got closer to the back of the building, and I jumped around the final corner to meet a sight that turned my stomach and relieved me at the same time.

Kyra was leaning heavily against a parked car with her head in her hands, and she wasn't alone. Four men—a glance told me they were the same ones I'd noticed before—were laid out on the ground around her, and a fifth was hovering beside her, but two seconds of hesitation told me that he was helping her, not attacking. She was shaking like a leaf…he whispered something quietly to her as he gently took her arm, and she slowly slid down to the ground…I got a glimpse of her face, and my chest constricted when I saw the expression there.

"Kyra!" Sam's voice called from the other side of the building, and I rushed over to her at the same time he did. I took two seconds to look Kyra over—her lip was bleeding, but other than that she was physically okay, even if the look on her face screamed that she was mentally overloaded—then roughly grabbed the stranger by the arm and pulled him back.

"What happened?" I demanded. He glanced at her one more time before he looked at me.

"I was sitting in my car when these guys dragged her back here…I guess they caught her off guard or something, but between both of us, we took them out," he told me, shooting the parasites a disgusted look. I couldn't blame him…hell, it was taking every ounce of control I possessed to not stomp those slimeballs into oblivion myself. "From the way she was fighting, she wasn't in good shape to begin with…you think maybe one of these guys slipped something in her drink?"

"I dunno," I answered…hell, I knew exactly what was wrong, and it wasn't any drug. Besides, I'd been watching, and none of them had the chance to do anything like that. Something was seriously screwing with her abilities, and I didn't know if she was picking up a nasty or just on overload, but I couldn't tell this guy any of that—aside from sounding crazy, he could be the problem in the first place. He'd saved her, sure, but that didn't mean he didn't have worse plans for her than gang rape…he could be planning on eating her for a snack, for all I knew.

I shared a look with Sam, and he got the message; while I went back to Kyra, he took my place questioning the guy. I tuned them out as I gently looked her over. She looked nauseous, but it was hard to tell if it was from the alcohol or whatever she was picking up…I'd seen her abilities take a lot out of her before, but this was nothing like what I was familiar with, and it was freaking me out. No way could I touch her bare skin while she was like this, it could make it even worse, but I needed to get her out of here…as gingerly as I could, I put one arm around her waist and grabbed her closest arm, making sure the sleeve stayed between my hand and her arm, then pulled her to her feet, where her legs buckled. I caught her weight and pulled her up in my arms so I was carrying her, then took her back around front to the Impala and set her down on the hood.

"C'mon, Kyra, talk to me," I whispered to her…she wasn't looking any better than before…suddenly, she lashed out like a viper and snatched my wrist, and my head spun horribly as flashes and emotions exploded in my head…I fell against the hood as my knees gave out, and it was all I could do to keep myself off the ground as my mind processed everything…there was no way I could put into words what exactly she was feeling, but now I understood perfectly why she was so fried…wow, if I'd been hit with something that strong, I think I'd be comatose right now…still, there was something calming about it that I couldn't explain.

By the time Sam came around the corner, I'd pulled myself together enough to open the passenger door and help Kyra into the seat…I gave him a look and tossed him the keys, ignoring his silent question as I climbed in the back seat.


	9. Chapter Nine: Sam's POV

Chapter Nine

**A/N:** What the heck happened? This was supposed to be a funny story! Where'd all the serious stuff come from? I dunno, but this story's nearly wrapped up. Hot off the presses, please review!

I was seriously worried about Kyra and Dean…neither of them had spoken since we left the bar, and he looked nearly as messed up as she did. He recovered faster than she did, though…he was mostly back to his normal self in about an hour, but she still looked shell-shocked the next morning and still wasn't talking. Dean had helped her get cleaned up in the shower, but even that didn't seem to help much; once she'd been bathed, dressed, and fed, she found her voice, but even then it seemed difficult for her to talk.

"Thanks, guys," were her first, barely audible words. This snatched both Dean's attention and mine, and we looked at her closely.

"Kyra, what happened last night?" I asked softly. She shook her head.

"I wish I understood it, Sam…something just hit me out of nowhere. I have no idea what it was, but it was powerful…it nearly fried my brain being so near it, but there was something else to it. I mean, yeah, it was the strongest thing I'd ever been around, but I got other vibes too—like it wanted to protect me, like it was concerned about me."

It took me a moment to process that. From what she was saying, there had been some super-powerful creature at the bar last night—something powerful enough to overload her abilities in an instant, yet for some reason didn't kill anyone.

"You think it might've been that guy?" Dean asked. Kyra gave him a confused look.

"What guy?" she asked. I shared a look with my brother; that definitely didn't sound good.

"The guy that helped you against those four in the parking lot," Dean clarified, studying her intently. "What, you don't remember that?"

"Dean, I barely remember walking out the door…after that? Whatever it was, it was so strong that it blew out everything else…the next thing I knew, I woke up this morning," she told us, then suddenly looked uncomfortable when she realized what Dean had said. "What four guys in the parking lot?"

The tension was so thick, you couldn't even cut it with a chainsaw. She kept looking between me and Dean, and a glance at my brother told me he felt exactly the same way I did; neither of us wanted to break the news to her about being ambushed for the intention of gang rape, but even though I barely knew her, I could tell she wouldn't leave it alone until we did. After a moment, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Kyra…some of the guys from the bar jumped you when you went outside," I said quietly. "We found you a few minutes later behind the building…they were all knocked out, and a fifth guy was there looking over you. He told us that you had taken them out together, but judging from how you were last night and what you just told us, it looks like he did it by himself."

She took the news in silence—I watched the blood drain from her face at my words and knew that she knew exactly how much of a close call it had been for her. For a moment, she rested her head in her hands, and Dean reached over and rubbed her shoulder consolingly…as soon as his fingers brushed the bare skin at her shirt collar, however, she jumped like a live wire and looked at him in shock. He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his hand; after a moment, her free hand lashed out and grabbed my bare wrist.

"That's not possible," she whispered, letting go of us. She sat there in stunned silence for two seconds, then snatched her laptop, opened it, and started typing feverishly. I shared another look with Dean; we didn't know what she'd seen, but it was definitely something important.

"What is it?" Dean asked as she clicked and typed furiously. Her eyebrows furrowed together, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"That guy last night? He wasn't just some random stranger," she answered. "We've only known each other since we were four…his name's Bryan Kirkpatrick. But here's the problem with that…we've had no contact since I started hunting. He wouldn't have the slightest idea of where I am or how to find me…he wouldn't have just let you guys take me out of there without an explanation. And here's the biggest problem…from everything I'm finding, he's still in Arkansas and he hasn't been out of state in months," she said, spinning the laptop around for us to see.

I looked at everything she showed us…damn, she was right! This Bryan guy was a dead ringer for the guy we saw last night. After a second, I opened a few of the different windows she'd minimized and saw what she was talking about…phone records, MySpace updates, credit card activity…he'd used an ATM in Fayetteville, Arkansas just four minutes after we'd arrived back at the hotel, so there was no humanly possible way that he'd saved her the night before.

"So now what?" I asked. She shrugged, frowning at the computer.

"Something that can make itself look like people out of someone else's memories?" Dean suggested skeptically. A frown crossed Kyra's face.

"If so, that's a new one on me. Shapeshifters usually have to have seen someone themselves to take on their appearance—I've never heard of one that can pull something like this off," she said quietly, her voice fading as she slouched back in her chair. We took one look at her and knew she needed to lay back down; Dean helped her back to the bed, and we stepped outside to talk without disturbing her.

"What do you think?" he asked me. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

"Man, I got nothing," I admitted. "Everything she said was pretty accurate. All the lore and all the accounts I've ever read about shifters…there's nothing in there that says they can just pull a person out of your memories and take their form. They're not mind readers, and I doubt any of them would be strong enough to overload her like whatever it was did last night."

"So we're looking at something else entirely," he concluded. "Something we've probably never come across before, that we don't know how to kill."

"But if it was saving her, protecting her, it can't be all bad—maybe it's something we won't have to take out."

"And if it develops an obsession with her, who's to say it won't follow her wherever she goes? Who's to say that it won't decide to attack someone just because she gets mad at them or they hurt her feelings? That much power laser focused on one person? That's bad news no matter how you look at it."

It was hard to argue his point, but I didn't see what we could do about it regardless. We didn't know yet whether it would follow her, and we definitely had no idea how to stop it. All I knew to do was pray that it just did a good deed and went about its merry way, because I didn't know what else to do.


	10. Chapter Ten: Kyra's POV

Chapter Ten

**A/N:** Sorry it's taken so long to update, my muse and real life hate me for some reason! But I promise, we're nearly at the end of this particular chapter of Kyra's saga, if you can just hang with me a little longer. Also, I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but like I said, my muse hates me right now! Please review!

It took me another day to recover enough to be fit to travel, and it was humiliating. I knew they were gonna tell Uncle Bobby if they hadn't already, so I took the opportunity to call him whenever Sam stepped out to pick up lunch. To make things simpler, I put him on speaker so that both Dean and I could hear him and vice versa…after all, there were a lot of things I'd missed after having my brain nearly fried. He picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Uncle Bobby," I greeted him, suddenly exhausted. He seemed to sense that and immediately changed his tone.

"Kyra? What's wrong, sweetie?" I gave Dean a look, and he nodded.

"Hey Bobby, it's Dean," he said, then immediately told Uncle Bobby what was going on, including my powers being overwhelmed by our mystery creature, the fact that it saved me, and that it took the appearance of my oldest friend. He'd tried to skate over what it had saved me from, but Bobby was too sharp to be evaded, and I could hear rage in the silence that followed after Dean had told him about the men that ambushed me.

"Let's just stay on point here," I finally chimed in, nervous at the silent fury radiating from Uncle Bobby. "We need to find out what that guy could've been. I was gonna head back to your place, but I don't know if this was just a random run-in or if it'll follow me, and I don't wanna bring something that strong down on you, even if it did decide to help me out."

"Well, from the way Dean described it, that's a new one on me too," he admitted, his voice calmer, and I felt my heart sink…so much for answers. "But you bring your ass home, Kyra…I don't care if the damn thing's glued to your hip, I'd feel a lot better if you were close enough for me to help you. I'll hit the books in the meantime and see if I can dig up anything."

"All right, Uncle Bobby," I answered with a smile. "Sam's out getting lunch, but after he gets back and we eat, I'll be on my way, ok?"

"Okay…I think it goes without saying to watch your ass," he snarked, making me chuckle.

"You know me, Uncle Bobby—I'm careful," I told him. Dean snatched the phone out of my hand and turned the speaker off, then walked outside where I couldn't hear whatever he wanted to say. I caught the first few words, though.

"Hey, it's me again. Look, I know—" The door closing cut off the rest of Dean's words, but I could guess the general direction he was going in the few words I did hear. He was either apologizing to Uncle Bobby for letting me leave the bar alone, or expounding on exactly what kind of effect the creature had on me…or maybe something else they hadn't told me? Try as I could, I had no memory of that night after walking out the door of the bar, and that scared me shitless. I know my memory tends to be on the side of Swiss cheese, but a complete blackout? That's never happened to me before, even when my abilities first started to pop up.

A shudder ran through me as I wondered what the boys might be hiding from me. Okay, I had no proof that they were, and maybe I was just being paranoid, but the more I thought about it, the stronger that conviction became. If it had something to do with my abilities…what could it be? Did something new and even freakier happen with them? Or was it simply about the effect they had on me, how badly I'd been screwed up afterwards? Were they gonna try to force me to stop hunting? Did they think it might be too dangerous for me? After all, if that happened on a hunt, it could get me and anyone else around killed…but I'd been around ghosts, demons, shifters, and a variety of supernatural creatures without being fried like that, even if being in a demon's presence did make me nauseous. Screw that, I'm not just gonna sit on the sidelines!

Before I could wonder too much more, Dean came back in, followed closely by Sam, who was carrying three take-out bags from a nearby diner. The sight and smell of the food pushed my worries to the back of my mind, but I was far from forgetting them—I could eat first, then try to get some answers before I hit the road to Uncle Bobby's house.


End file.
